


When eating a meal with family, you need to be on your guard at all times.

by emily_420



Category: Gintama
Genre: Food mentions, M/M, mild canon-typical violence, talk of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:47:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emily_420/pseuds/emily_420
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some years later, Takasugi and Kamui are wandering and a bit disconnected from their pasts. A chance encounter helps one of them get a bit re-connected and the other move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When eating a meal with family, you need to be on your guard at all times.

Takasugi was literally jolted awake by the ship practically crash-landing. He’d been taking a nap on the enormous white couch Kamui had insisted on putting in the old meeting room turned living room – he’d initially been against the thing but it was undeniably comfortable, so he was setting their differences aside for a beautiful harmony. Until someone had decided that they hated the harmony and changed the radio station to heavy metal. Takasugi sat up, struggling for a second against the overly-soft cushions, and got up, stopping to pick up his katana and stick it back in his obi before moodily half-stomping down the mostly dark hallways of the former Kiheitai ship towards the control room.

Several years previously, Takasugi had formally disbanded the Kiheitai in favour of becoming a freelance mercenary, intending to temporarily distance himself from his desire to destroy everything in the hopes of gaining some greater insight into what sort of samurai he was and what he was truly fighting for. In actuality, though, he was as lost as ever, the only difference being that now he waited for people that pissed him off to show up in front of him before he destroyed them instead of actively going after them.

Kamui, on his side, chose to stay with Takasugi, and went between mercenary work, high-risk gambling that he always seemed to win at, weird odd jobs that took his interest that Takasugi didn’t like to think about too much for the sake of his own stress levels, and occasional black market dealing on the side. Having gained the unofficial title of strongest in the universe and with nothing left to work towards, he quickly got bored of things and was fond of switching to new things, as if he was channel surfing in his day-to-day life.

In any case, it was just the two of them on a large ship that once held a much larger number of people. While they’d sporadically redecorated (and, in some cases where Kamui got a bit carried away, rebuilt) rooms they used frequently to suit their needs, many unused rooms were becoming stale-aired and thickly layered with dust. This didn’t bother either of them in the slightest, though, and there was no motivation in them to downsize to a smaller ship. If anything, the vast, echoing and bordering on lonely emptiness of of it suited them, like the depths of space they frequented.

Prensenly, Takasugi opened the doors to the control room with a bang, asked with a scowl and a dark tone, “What the hell are you doing?”

Kamui turned without taking his hands off the helm, his customary smile in place, said, “Well, we’re running low on food, so I thought...”

“Don’t decide on your own.” Moody now both because he’d just woken up _and_ because of the shitty impulsive brat he somehow put up with, Takasugi crossed the room to peer tiredly through the wide window that stretched across the length of control panels, their miscellaneous lights and displays alternatively blinking and glowing. They were in some sort of parking lot for spaceships, it seemed; Takasugi could see some Amanto carrying cargo onto a ship near them, and he was almost entirely certain that Kamui had crashed into the ship to the front of them, but it was hard to make much else out, given that the area was fairly dimly lit. “Anyway, what are you talking about? We have plenty of food.”

Kamui laughed sheepishly, a rare and miraculous indication that he knew he was in the wrong; Takasugi turned to look at him. “You see, while you were sleeping, I had lunch, but I sorta...”

The ‘...got carried away’ was implied. Takasugi glared at him, not that it achieved anything – Kamui kept smiling brightly like the troublesome kid he was. “Whatever,” Takasugi sighed. “But that doesn’t mean you need to crash my ship.”

“I didn’t crash her. She’s fine, go look for yourself.”

“You’ll be ‘fine’ too if you keep it up.” Takasugi sighed again.

“Sorry, mum,” Kamui said, smile twitching at the corners, without a single hint of sarcasm. “Or, rather, do you need more rest, old man?”

As if in correlation with Kamui’s smile, Takasugi’s eyebrow twitched. “Do you wanna rest permanently, you bastard?”

Kamui grinned. “You say that a lot, but you’ve never actually killed me. What? Do you like me that much? Don’t wanna lose me? Don’t worry, I’ll be bringing you down to hell with me.”

“I know you will,” Takasugi replied plainly, tucking his arms in his sleeves and heading slowly back for the door, “but I only get to do it once, don’t I? So I’ve gotta make it good.” He paused at the doorway, not looking back. “Come on, let’s go.”

.

“Look what you’ve done, you moron!” an Amanto was yelling at Kamui. They had pale, deeply winkled, entirely hairless skin so white it could rival that of the Yato, bulging eyes on stalks the curved off what on a lot of species would be considered the forehead, and were draped in numerous colourful geometrically patterned layers of clothing. The overall effect was that of an old, particularly flamboyant humanoid fish. “What sort of flying is that? How did you even get a licence, you useless hairy monkey!”

Distantly, Takasugi was amused. Kamui didn’t have a licence, just like most people that took off into space; it’s hardly policed at all.

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who looks like an ancient deep sea creature,” Kamui said relatively innocently.

“Look at this! Look what you’ve done!” they continued with escalating anger, either not caring about or failing to hear Kamui’s comment. A single long, equally pale, bony finger pointed at the admittedly slight collision between Takasugi’s ship and their much smaller ship, they shouted, voice becoming squeaky and thin, “What are you going to do about this?!”

Kamui frowned just a little bit, hefted his umbrella off from resting on his shoulder, folded it, and proceeded to swing it at the other Amanto full-force, batting them into their own ship as if he was a clean-up hitter.

Takasugi whistled. “Home run,” he joked.

.

The city they’d landed in was a lot more linear than Edo, Takasugi thought. Or maybe he should say less upright. The buildings were plentiful, wide and often interconnected; the roads, busy with hovering round vehicles, stretched above, below and around everything else. This planet, Kamui told him as they walked through a bustling pathway covered with what looked like curly blue grass, wasn’t part of any solar system and was therefore stuck in an eternal night.

“The old man wanted to move here at one point because they have better medicine, but in the end we were too poor,” Kamui said absently, eyes glued to a roving street vendor that was headed their way, their cart laden with something Takasugi couldn’t begin to identify. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” Takasugi sighed. Like an overexcited dog that had just been let off his leash, Kamui made a beeline for the vendor, digging assorted crumpled bills out of his pockets and quickly buying five portions of whatever-it-was.

“Anyway,” Kamui carried on a minute later, mouth full, “the atmosphere is really thin so even in built up areas like this you can see the stars really well.”

Taking that in, Takasugi hummed in thought, looking up to the sections of sky peeking through the crowding roads and buildings. There wasn’t much difference between what he could see there and what he’d see looking out the window of his ship, only he could see a dull moon hanging in the sky.

“Is there just one moon?”

“No,” Kamui said, swallowing thickly, “there’s about four or five, I think. Well, but there’s no sun, so they aren’t bright at all, they just pick up starlight.”

“Right.” Takasugi turned his eyes to the many buildings crowding the area; they were badly marked if at all – the result of a society that doesn’t move on money, according to Kamui, the surrounding buildings were for the most part blank, rounded towering masses, barely distinguishable from each other. The sparse signs available were things like a doctor’s office, a government building... Takasugi never thought he would have been craving the influence of capitalism as much as he was then. He sighed in defeat.

“Maybe there’s a map somewhere,” Takasugi said, intending the words for Kamui, but when he went to look at the Yato he was no longer there. Stopping abruptly on the pathway, causing an Amanto that looked like the vaguely fish-like person from earlier to bump into him and bark a reprimand that Takasugi had frankly no interest in, he turned and scanned the reasonably thick crowd for the red-head, quickly spotting him standing at what was likely a hovercraft equivalent of a minivan, enthusiastically eating a dull-coloured crystallised food. Possibly a dessert. Takasugi wouldn’t have touched it if you paid him.

Hands tucked into his sleeves, Takasugi weaved through the crowd, coming to a stop just behind Kamui, and watched him happily stuff his face with something close to exasperation. “Hey,” Takasugi said, turning his attention from his... well, whatever Kamui was to him to look at the person running the stand, an Amanto presumably from the Dog Star. They looked up from wiping down the counter.

“Anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, can you tell me where to find a grocery store?”

.

They take a somewhat abridged path to the supermarket, which is bland-looking from the exterior but far livelier inside. Inside the entrance at the topmost level of the building, it’s brightly lit, a wide array of neat shelves and displays waiting patiently to the soundtrack of soft, calm music. Takasugi thought Kamui might have stolen the stars and hid them in his eyes.

The next twenty minutes were wild, to say the least, and also the reason that Takasugi preferred to do the shopping alone. Kamui wanted to buy practically everything and Takasugi was forced to play the mother if they wanted to have any significant amount of money left over.

Somehow he made it alive to the meat section, and if Kamui had a tail it probably would have been wagging. The trolley was already fairly full despite Takasugi’s best efforts, and he was, as previously noted, tired and irritable so he was hoping that they’d get the shopping done quickly so he could get some caffeine in his system. Unfortunately, the store was against him. Around what was signed to be the deli, a large crowd had gathered, talking quietly among themselves.

“What is this?” Kamui said, frowning. “Can I just shove them out of the way?”

“No–just– Do it gently.”

Kamui’s version of gentle was a regular person’s rough, so there were inevitably some people offended but at least no one was going flying. At the front of the crowd, they could see that in the display window there was a large and questionable blue blob for sale at a high price. Takasugi didn’t quite get why you’d want to eat it, as some people around him seemed to agree from what he could hear, but Kamui looked thrilled.

“Oh man, I’ve always wanted to eat one of these! Shinsuke, we have to get it.”

“The hell is it?”

“Technically it’s a pest, but they’re meant to be super delicious,” Kamui said, absently reaching for his pocket. Takasugi hoped he didn’t think he’d be able to pay for it with the change he kept stuffed in there. “Since it lives on a lot of different planets, it doesn’t have an official name. We call it Bandian.”

“Oi, move out of the way,” a snotty – meaning the attitude and not indicating nasal issues – voice called from the midst of the crowd. There was some disgruntled shuffling, and out came a large white dog, a young woman with bright, long orange hair and a purple umbrella, and a cloaked man. Kamui went still.

“There it is, Papi,” the woman was saying. “Alright! Let’s buy this bastard and eat him, yes?”

“Kagura,” the man said uncomfortably, jerking his head toward Kamui. Takasugi had a vague sense of dread. The woman and Kamui were having a tense, silent glaring contest.

“Um,” Takasugi started, but the woman was talking over him.

“I hope you’re not planning on buying that, brother,” she said, looking, emotionally and physically, down at him.

“And why would that be?” Kamui returned, smiling for god knows what reason. “Can I not shop freely?”

“It was our prey from the beginning.”

“So? Anyone can buy it, now.”

“ _So,_ stop eyeing it like you look at samurai. The one who eats it will be me, yes?”

“Don’t forget Papi, Kagura-chan–“ the man edged in, but neither of his children – or at least Takasugi was assuming that was Kamui’s dad – were listening, busy as they were looking like they’d kill each other any second. A timid store employee quivered as he tried to interrupt.

“Excuse me, I’m very sorry, but we don’t allow pets in the store, so you’ll need to–“

Takasugi tuned out everything after this, even as the dysfunctional family started destroying good chunks of the store with their petty fight. “Hey,” he said to the deli worker who was gaping at the proceedings, “this blob thing, I’d like to buy it.”

.

“I hate this ship,” Kagura said as they boarded, spitting on the floor.

Takasugi’s tone and expression were both oblivious. “What’s wrong with it?”

Kagura looked furious, grinding her teeth at him while walking backwards and pointing an accusatory finger straight at the spot in between Takasugi’s eyebrows. “Do you not friggin’ remember, you bastard?! You kept me hostage!! An innocent girl of fourteen! And now you say you forget? You have no idea how to treat a lady!”

“Yeah, whatever...” Takasugi pushed her finger away. “Just don’t spit on anything else.”

“Shut up! I’ll spit on whatever I want!” And then she spat right in Takasugi’s face.

“Kamui...” Takasugi said, resisting the urge to wipe his face.

“What.” Came Kamui’s mildly irritated reply from up ahead.

“Your family is annoying.”

“I know.”

Kagura launched herself at Kamui’s back in a flying kick. This was going to be the longest meal of Takasugi’s life.

.

“I am having half of this, yes?” Kagura said as she butchered the Bandian with a surprising and somewhat alarming amount of dexterity at the low table in their living room.

“And Papi will have the other half,” their dad said with more dignity than Takasugi would have thought for someone his age talking in third person.

“No, you won’t,” Kamui said, smiling even though Takasugi could tell he hated the situation Takasugi had shoved him into. “ _I’ll_ have half, since we’re the ones who paid for it–” _We?_ Takasugi thought, but let it go, “–and you two can go halves on the rest.”

Their dad’s – was he ever going to introduce himself? – eyebrow was twitching, his fists clenched as he spoke and avoided looking directly at Kamui. “Oi, oi, now you’re getting selfish. What if your friend wants some too? Don’t you remember how Papi taught you to share?”

“You never taught me any such thing,” Kamui said with an air of politeness, still smiling, “or anything at all, for that matter. Maybe if you had actually been around–” He was cut off by Kagura leaning across the table, knife still in one hand, and shoving her fingers up his nostrils.

“Oi, stop ruining our family get-together,” she said, a threat lacing her words. “Can’t you see how hard Papi is trying? At least put in an effort, stupid brother.”

“Trying hard?” Kamui’s voice was distorted by the fingers quite clearly pretty far up his nostrils. “All I see is a man who’s trying not to punch me.”

“No, you’re wrong,” their dad said, “my arm’s shaking because it’s hurting just being around you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill me,” Kamui was trying to wrestle his sister’s fingers out of his nasal passages, but she was staying strong; he flicked her eyelid in retaliation and she fell back, the knife flying out of her hand and stabbing a hunk of nauseatingly green meat as it came back down.

Kamui’s dad snapped a bit then and Takasugi was really, truly tasting regret. He slammed a hand down on the table, shouted, “You tried to kill me first, insolent brat!”

The knife wobbled ominously.

Kamui was rubbing his nose, a slightly disgusted expression coming forth in the absence of a facade. Kagura was wiping her fingers – the ones that previously vacated her brother’s nostrils – on her pants as she ambled out of the room on her own, saying over her shoulder, “Oi, where’s your rice? I want rice.” When she left the room, she went left. The kitchen was down to the right. She popped back into the room. “Oi, where’s your kitchen?”

Takasugi sighed out his nose as he stood up. “Neither of you kill each other,” he said as he left.

.

They were both bleeding when he came back but no one was dead so that was always a plus. And apparently, Takasugi quickly came to see, when you give them all food they shut up for a while. He knew as much about Kamui already but was amused to see the same trait in the rest of his family members.

Until, with a feeling of inevitability, Kamui mumbled through his mouthful at his sister, “There’s not enough... oi, give me some of yours.”

She batted his chopsticks away from her bowl as if dealing with a particularly persistent fly. “No way, I’m a growing young woman, I need it more.”

“Kagura-chan,” their dad said sagely, setting his bowl down, “once you hit eighteen you’re pretty much done.”

“That’s true,” Kamui said, stealing a bit of his father’s meat when he wasn’t looking and stuffing it in his mouth before he could notice, “I was done when I was fifteen, I think. You should just get used to your current height.”

“You’re both puny, I don’t wanna hear it from you,” she retorted, nose in the air before shovelling another large mouthful of rice into her mouth. “I’ve still got further to go, you will see.”

Kamui’s eye twitched. “Puny?”

For what was possibly the first time in their lives, Kamui and his dad looked united in something: Kagura would regret saying that.

.

Later, when the food was gone and Kamui’s family showed no signs of leaving quickly, Takasugi stepped out onto the deck to have a smoke as he admired the unique sky the planet’s atmosphere afforded him. In getting Kamui’s family to eat with them, he had been hoping that they could reconcile with him at least a little bit; he knew Kamui still felt attached to them, saw it in him from time to time even if he never really voiced it, and from what he could tell they cared about him in relatively equal measure. To Takasugi, whose family had never even really given him a chance the instant he wasn’t the model son they’d wanted, it frustrated him to see Kamui essentially rejecting his caring if somewhat unstable family.

Takasugi blew out a thin stream of smoke, watching it lazily disappear before him.

Maybe he was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, but he couldn’t help it. That was probably a sign that he’d come to hold more affection for Kamui than originally planned.

There was no helping that, either.

“Excuse me,” came the smooth, deep voice of Kamui’s father from behind him, “may I join you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Takasugi said easily, lifting his pipe back to his mouth.

A few moments of silence passed as they both took in the illuminated sky. Kamui’s dad spoke then, low and serious in a way Kamui would probably never master. “I never did introduce myself, did I? That was rude of me... My name is Umibozu.”

Takasugi blew out more smoke.

“...And you are?” Umibozu asked. “What’s your relationship with him?”

‘Him’ being Kamui. Takasugi wished he knew. Lacking an answer, he said tiredly instead, “His babysitter.”

Umibozu laughed honestly and loudly. “I can imagine that he might need one.” He heaved a sigh, one of many years of guilt, said, “I don’t know what your intentions were, but for bringing us together like this... thank you.”

“What are you talking about?” Takasugi said, not taking his eyes from one of the two moons visible to him. “I didn’t do anything. You wouldn’t have come together like that if none of you had wanted to.”

“You have a point,” Umibozu said, “but I’m afraid I’ve been running from him for so long that I probably would have done so today, as well. So I’m grateful.”

Takasugi shrugged. Behind the closed door that led inside, Kamui smiled a little.

.

Later, after the two relatives had taken off on their ship with too much waving and a promise to write from Kagura, Takasugi had turned to Kamui and told him, complete with irritated expression, “We need more rice now.”

“Aw, c’mon, Shinsuke,” Kamui smiled, “whose fault is that?”

“I didn’t count on you all being gluttons,” he grumbled, but nevertheless set off for the supermarket once more, Kamui by his side.

Not wasting any time at the store, they headed for a rocky peak nearby on Takasugi’s suggestion. It was a whim, really, but he was entitled to those. He slumped down on an oddly square, oddly pink boulder, pulling his pipe out and tuning out the munching of Kamui eating exotic snacks for what he called desert.

A cool wind swept by, and Takasugi suppressed a shiver. “Are you cold?” Kamui asked softly.

“No,” he denied flatly. Not heeding his words, Kamui sat next to him, shuffled close to his side and put an arm around Takasugi’s shoulders. “Oi, I said I’m not–”

“Shinsuke,” Kamui cut him off, just as quiet as before. “You did all of that, but you don’t know how to let people love you any more either, do you?”

“What’s your point?” Takasugi snorted. “Do you wanna love me?”

“Of course not. And I don’t think I could. But at least let me care about you.”

Takasugi shrugged a little, and leant ever so slightly into Kamui’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> i just realised basically everything i write comes back to food... this is a sign of something, don't know what and not sure i want to


End file.
